“Who but the mad would choose to keep on living? In the end, aren't we all just a little crazy?”
The random thoughts and ramblings of a sleep deprived, attention deficient, cursing and extremely sarcastic Facebook addict... Where's my iPhone?

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Wednesday, November 2, 2016

Liar, Liar

“…The truth comes out a little at a time, spreads just like a fire…”

You will have to forgive me if this reads more like a letter meant for him and not my usual post… but I have some things to get off my chest and it has to be done. Since I never plan on speaking to that “man” again this is the best way I know to get it out of my head.

The sad fact of the matter is that Baby Girl’s daddy, “Jack*” (shit for honesty), is a liar. He is so much of a liar he makes our current political situation look like Sunday church services. He has never called to see if she is okay or if she needs anything. Not that I would answer anymore at this point, but if you father a child with someone should you not step up and do right by the child even if you do not want to be part of her life? He had no problem laying down to make the child, that he was man enough to do, but he is not man enough to ensure she never needs even the basics?

His “donation” created the most amazingly beautiful little girl, who is funny, smart, and above average in every way if I do say so myself. It breaks my heart that she will never have a true father, because he is not capable of being a man.

It is true Jack (shit for brains), is no man in any sense other than gender. He told me that he was the president of the Outlaws Motorcycle Club, local chapter, but well acquainted with their national hierarchy. His stories never added up so I never took him too seriously until he began to get mean and threaten me, my (at the time) unborn child, my family, and even my dogs. If he ever reads this, and as he was a follower of my blogs I can guess he will because I know the real him….

You want to know why I did not freak out when you told me you had killed people? I did not believe you. Your stories did not make sense; you were frequently so drunk when making them up you do not even realize how embellished they got. I humored you because I was concerned as someone who cared and who had known you going on 20 years. Do you honestly think I would have hung with someone I thought to be a real murderer? Come on now.

I have driven by your house on a night you were supposed to be at “church” with the club and you were there, sitting in your living room watching television. It broke my heart for you because you felt the need to make up stories to make yourself sound important or impress people or whatever it was you were doing. My counselor asked me at the time what I thought it was, I told her hubris. (In case you do not know that word it means: excessive pride or self-confidence, arrogance, egotism, conceit, pomposity.) The Jack I knew was not capable of these things, though he probably likes to think he is. No, I told her, I was not spending my time with an actual Outlaw, or even an actual outlaw, just a man who drinks too much, and has some issues with the realities of his life.

Why stay with this person my readers may be wondering…? After everything I have been through why would I continue to stay with this guy? I was pregnant with a child he fathered, and I desperately wanted to make it work. Even if he and I could not be together I wanted her to have a Daddy, like I did… A wonderful man who would cherish her and love her unconditionally. I kept thinking if I could just see him through this rough patch, this depression, get him sobered up again, he would be the guy I remembered him to be. He was a good guy when I first met him. One of my best friends, a little pudgy, but quick witted, funny, smart, a bit wild, but best of all a great listener, and had a great smile. The problem was the drinking was not a new thing as he had let on. He hid from me for many years that he drank as much as he did, only his wife (At the time, who he told me one sad night left him for another woman… she did not. She left him because at the bottom of a bottle one night, he laid hands on her) and family really knew how much he was drinking. As is the tradition, no one spoke of it openly so I was left in the dark.

It was when you threatened the life of our, well my, unborn daughter that I pulled away from you. Even under the guise of it being a “Club thing” because “I knew too much” I felt we crossed a line. I was on my way out the door when you said that the Club was going to pay me a million dollars to disappear from your life. It felt like you were trying to buy me off, pay money to make a child you gave your genes to go away like she just did not exist. It did not sit well with me. When you became angry because I would not get up after ten o’clock at night and drive the thirty minutes to your house, pregnant and suffering from hyperemesis gravidarum, and exhausted, you told me that

“If it was really your child, I would be there in ten minutes.”

I cried myself to sleep. I knew for the first time you were hopeless. How little I truly knew at the time… because you were already sleeping with her. A “woman” technically your cousin, who knew all about me and our, my, baby. I know she knew and you know it too, because it was her friend that messaged me on Facebook asking if I was the one pregnant by you. She is either believing one hell of a whopper you came up with to explain me away, or she is as trashy as you are. She moved in with you when I went on bed rest because of the difficult pregnancy I was having. You let another woman move in with you while I laid in bed crying over you and the situation. I was oblivious to her existence, though I suspected. I never imagined you would have stayed quite so close to home as to sleep with your cousin, but since this fast became a Jerry Springer episode in the making I guess that just makes sense.

When your ex-wife contacted me I was to find out just how Springer it all was. I was not sure without a doubt that you were not at least somewhat involved with the Outlaws, I never thought you were as deep as you wanted me to believe but how involved I could not say. Perhaps it was true that your dad was in with them, or members of your family, I was not sure. So when I asked your, now ex-wife, about how she dealt with the Club… and her response was

“What club?”

“You know, the CLUB.” I said.

“Yeah, what CLUB?” she asked again.

“The Motorcycle Club.” I answered.

“Oh my God, did he tell you he was in a BIKER GANG?!” she practically screamed with laughter in response. Turns out you lied about everything, not just the big things, but literally…Every. Single. Thing. You have absolutely no affiliation with any Motorcycle Club, you do not even ride a motorcycle, or own one. The girl you claimed to be involved with in Vegas, is your ex’s best friend, not yours and she would not touch you with a 50-foot pole and she has no sister, so I do not know whose picture you showed me but I guess Google Images is pretty sweet. You did not even come close to putting your ex-wife up in an apartment and pay her rent for a year and buy her all new furniture… I do not know where you drove me past but it was not where your ex is living, because I have been there now many times and it is not an apartment. It is the most disrespectful place she could possibly be living frankly, you should be ashamed of yourself that she and your children live in such a tiny little place. I cannot really blame you for wanting that to be different because she would rather live in a two room, essentially outbuilding, than be with you. That says something about you.

Your dad is not in a motorcycle club; his motorcycles do not even work at the moment. Your stepmom is not the Katy Sagal character from Sons of Anarchy… She is actually a very nice, caring woman who you have greatly disrespected. None of them want me dead. Not even your little sister who was shocked by the way you treated me the night I came by and she was there. Turns out your family, at least your mom and dad and sister who all met me, do want to know my child. The story line you kept feeding me, your daily dramas were things you lifted straight from the plot line of your favorite show, Sons of Anarchy… you made yourself the lead character Jax Teller. Allow me to burst your bubble… you are no Jax Teller. You did not get in any fights with anyone, at least anyone that was not over the age of 11 or a female. You seem to find it really easy to bully children and women, but you cannot stand in your own truth or up to another man. You are a liar and everyone knows. Now you are expecting your second child this year, with your cousin… Word has it she will leave you as soon as it gets hard. I dare you to try calling me when your life goes to hell and you have an infant you do not know what to do with. Do not even think you did not burn your bridge. Well I guess you did not burn it, you nuked the damn thing. Jesus will come back before I ever darken your door to help you ever again. I will pray for you because I am Christian and I believe it is the right thing to do. I pray for your new little boy, and your other children because Lord knows they need it. Sweet Honey Iced Tea, they need it more than I can give. I should organize a whole prayer circle for them. Good luck Jack (shit), you will need it. I am done with you.

Well.... Jesus cares. I'm sure he will have some serious explaining to do when the time comes. Karma cares.... and if his new "woman" holds true to pattern then it's about to bite him big time. Remind him when he calls whining about his life and what is he going to do with this little baby he needs help, that he can call his best friend and "old lady" (the one he went to "Vegas" with) or he can call his other baby momma... because he sure as shit can't ask you for help. He will realize pretty quickly how many doors are closed around him. Guess the grandparents will have another kiddo. So sad that Karma has their number too.